Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  Ian said he’d stick around Wissota Falls for a couple of days. She’d keep his secret from John until he left. Then she’d tell him the truth. John would understand. He had an easy way of rationalizing things without allowing his emotions to be involved. And he worked for Ian, so he likely understood his boss better than she did.

  With a deep sigh, she let the heat in the room and the aromatic fragrances relax her. Thoughts of Ian fled and were replaced with John. The way his hungry gaze had traveled along her bare legs, the way his eyes nearly devoured her when she’d slipped off her panties.

  A small rap at the door made her jump. Water overflowed onto the floor and she quickly shut off the faucet.

  “You’re supposed to bathe, not swim in the tub,” John said with a chuckle as he closed the door behind him.

  “It’s not that high.”

  He set the wine glass on the counter, then placed a towel in front of the tub. It instantly soaked up the water.

  “Okay, so I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

  As he handed her the wine glass, he arched a brow. “Why’s that? What were you thinking about?”

  Heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room raced across her cheeks. “You,” she answered honestly.

  His gaze traveled over her breasts as she scooted up a bit to take a sip of the wine. “Care to share the details?”

  “Care to join me and find out?”

  Smiling he let his eyes move over her body. “I’d love to, but if I hop into your tiny tub, you might end up with water stains on your downstairs ceiling.”

  “We don’t want that,” she said, and took a sip of the wine.

  “No, we don’t.” He kissed her forehead. “I checked the fridge. What’ll it be? A turkey or ham sandwich?”

  “Don’t worry about fixing us something to eat now. Stay. Keep me company.”

  He acted as if he weighed the decision, then a crooked grin slid across his lips. “I suppose I can suffer the torture of watching you bathe.”

  She laughed and set her wine glass on the ledge in the corner of the tub. “Such a martyr.”

  After replacing the wet towel with a dry one, he knelt on the floor in front of the tub. “Aren’t I, though? I guess if you’re going to make me sit here with you, I might as well put myself to use.” He dipped a washcloth into the water.

  “An excellent idea,” she said as he began at her toes, then dragged the soaked cotton to her calf.

  He moved the washcloth up her legs. “I thought so.”

  Unfortunately, he bypassed the apex of her thighs, and drew circles on her stomach. Lying naked in the tub, with him fully clothed, had her more turned on than she’d imagined. The idea of having him wash her body, concentrating on every erogenous zone made her nipples harden, and caused a dull ache between her thighs. As much as she loved taking a long soak in the tub, a rare treat with her schedule, she wanted to forget the bath. She needed him on top of her, in her.

  “So tell me about your day?” he asked, as he massaged her torso, her rib cage.

  Was he kidding?

  She didn’t want to talk about her day. She wanted him. Obviously he meant to torture her, though. Some martyr. “Seeing as how you know how it started, how it ended, and I’d already told you the in-between stuff when you’d called. Why don’t you tell me about your day?”

  Shifting the washcloth, he edged closer to her breasts. Close, but still not touching.

  “There’s not much to tell. Nothing earth shattering happened after we talked this afternoon.”

  “Until you walked in on another one of my trances. And then there was that whole Lloyd kissing Will thing.”

  He chuckled. “True.”

  “Does it bother you that my brother and Lloyd are gay?”

  “I could care less,” he said, still stroking her.

  Considering John’s proclivity for honesty, she believed him. His opinion of Will mattered to her. She loved her brother, and couldn’t imagine being with a man who would be prejudiced against him.

  She rested her wet hand over his, stilling his movements along her torso. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” He met her gaze. “It’s like I told your brother and Lloyd, I don’t care about their relationship, I only care about ours.”

  Her heart pounded hard enough she wouldn’t be surprised if he felt it beneath the washcloth. She wanted them to be in a relationship. She wanted to know what his idea of a relationship actually meant. While she’d fallen in love with him, he might not feel the same. Yes, he obviously enjoyed being with her, but what if she told him about Ian? That she had an offer to move to Chicago?

  She was about to ask him to define their relationship, but chickened out and forced him to drag the washcloth to her breast, instead. Did she really want to know? She’d walked into this knowing he’d eventually leave. Was there any need to define what they had together?

  He cupped her breast, and dragged the terrycloth along her nipple eliciting a strong tug, a deep throb between her thighs. “Uh-uh.” He leaned over the tub until they were nose to nose. “This,” he said, and thumbed her nipple, “isn’t the only thing I want from you.”

  Feathering his other hand through her hair until he gently cupped her head, he brushed his lips against hers. “Sex is sex,” he said against her lips. “But when I’m with you, all I can think about is your pleasure, your release, and showing you how special you are to me.”

  He moved the washcloth between her thighs. She gasped and arched. “I love the way you respond to me.” He held her gaze as he rubbed the wet material against her clit. “God, the scent of you drives me crazy.” He nipped at her lower lip, then nuzzled his nose against her ear.

  “I love the way you laugh, the way your quick mind works.” He tickled her earlobe with his teeth, his hot breath sending goose bumps along her skin despite the warmth of the bath water. “I love that you accept my faults, the way you’ve brought peace and fulfillment to my life. I love everything about you, and I can’t imagine living in Chicago without you.”

  She froze. A split second ago, she’d been lost in his words, his praises, his touch. Now her heart swelled with relief, and burst with love.

  He hadn’t exactly said he loved her, or even asked her to move to Chicago with him, though.

  As much as what he had said meant the world to her, she needed crystal clear clarity before she’d allow her hopes and dreams to rise, only to have them plummet because she’d misunderstood. “Maybe my mind isn’t as quick as you think, because I’m not sure what you’re saying,” she said.

  He dropped the washcloth and cupped her cheeks. His dark eyes swirled with a multitude of emotions, as he brushed the pad of his thumb along her lips. “I want you to move to Chicago with me. After being with you, and the way you’ve filled the other half of my soul, I can’t imagine living in my condo alone, waking up without you, falling asleep without holding you. I love you, Celeste. I realize this must seem sudden, and if you need time to think about it we could—”

  She grabbed his head with her wet hands and kissed him with all of the love she’d been bottling inside. He met her kiss, his lips melting against hers, his tongue demanding, intoxicating as he ran his hands along her back and cradled her to his chest.

  Water sloshed around her, splashing him and soaking his shirt as she tried to lessen the inches between them. The air in the small bathroom became humid, steamier. The bathwater lukewarm compared to the heat radiating from his body and the hot need that scorched her with each press of his lips, each dip and stroke of his tongue.

  Yet, in the dark recesses of her mind, she sensed he held back. She needed him to let go. She needed his love, his heart, his soul—because he already had hers.

  Breaking the kiss, she held his strong jaw and stared into his eyes. They were hooded with desire, love and uncertainty. At that moment, she realized he needed more than her simply showing him how she felt. He needed to hear the words, too.

  During
the last two days, she’d been so uncertain of his feelings for her, she hadn’t wanted to risk the humiliation of rejection or appear as if she were angling for him to sweep her away from Wissota Falls to live with him in Chicago. But now that she knew he loved her, she could tell him the same, without risk, without shame, without the worry of him breaking her heart.

  She couldn’t stop her eyes from misting, or the tear that slipped down her cheek. “I love you, too.” She dug her fingers into his hair. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

  He tightened his arms around her. “You’ll come to Chicago? I know it might not be the city you would have chosen on your own, but my job...”

  Ian’s own job offer hung on the tip of her tongue. Now didn’t seem like the appropriate time to bring that information to light. There would be too many questions from his end, and quite frankly, she didn’t want to dredge up the roller coaster of emotions Ian had sent her on today. The only emotions she wanted deal with now were the ones between John and her.

  “I’d go anywhere with you, as long as it means we’ll be together.” She reached the waistband of his khakis and tugged his shirt free. “And that I can bring my gnomes with me,” she added with a small smile as she slid her hands beneath his shirt.

  Cupping her bottom, he lifted her from the tub, then draped a towel around her. “All of them?”

  “Of course. Each one has sentimental value.”

  With a sexy grin, he scooped her in his arms, then carried her to the bed. He rubbed the towel over her damp body, giving her breasts more attention than necessary. “The plates and glasses, too?” he asked, moving the towel lower and spreading her thighs.

  She released a moan as the soft, fluffy material rasped against her clit. “They’re collector’s items,” she managed to say despite the burning need racing through her.

  With a light chuckle, he tossed the towel on the floor. Cool air from the ceiling fan rushed over her, puckering her nipples and sending another series of goose bumps along her skin.

  “You drive a hard bargain,” he said, with mock admonishment as he pulled his shirt over his head.

  She shifted up, and attacked his belt. “Is it one you think you can live with?” she asked as she shoved his pants and boxers over his hips.

  His erection bobbed as he toed off his shoes and removed his socks. Then using his elbows to keep from crushing her, he settled his hard, naked body over hers. “On one condition,” he murmured as his arousal kissed her sex.

  “What’s that?” she asked, breathless, her insides coiling with sensual anticipation.

  “No gnomes in the bedroom.”

  She ran her palms over the valleys and groves along his biceps, loving the feel of him. “Performance anxiety?” she teased, then groaned as he impaled her with a quick thrust of his lean hips.

  “I just want you all to myself,” he said, punctuating each word with long, deep thrusts.

  What had started out as playful suddenly turned carnal. Without teasing foreplay, he drove himself hard between her thighs. This was what she wanted. This was what he hadn’t allowed her to see before. While tenderness and love still shown in the dark depths of his eyes, he’d finally let himself go.

  He held nothing back. With each touch, stroke and rock of his hips, she sensed more from him than words could ever convey.

  His love poured though her, in her, and settled so deeply in her heart and soul, she knew she’d never be the same. They shared a bond that could never be broken. A trust, an understanding, and a love strong enough to combat any obstacle that might come their way.

  He’d said he loved her. She’d declared her love, as well. But to feel that love coursing through her body, took her to a higher, more intensely sensual and emotional level. She never wanted it to end. She wanted to keep that steady connection sizzling through her, but he was driving her closer to the edge of release.

  His hard length penetrated, his coarse hair rasped against her clit. The friction became too much. Her over-sensitized body sought release. Moaning, groaning, wanting the orgasm each swift thrust of his hips promised, she still held back. She wanted the moment to last longer, to last forever.

  “Come for me, baby.” He dropped to his elbows again as he drove impossibly deeper. Skin to skin, her nipples rasping against the dusting of hair along his chest, he pressed open-mouthed kisses along the arch of her neck. “Let me hear you,” he demanded, his hot breath fanning across her lips.

  Digging her heels into his tight rear, gripping his back with her fingers, she sought his mouth. His kiss.

  He delivered. Catching her moans with his lips and tongue, he mimicked each sensual drive of his hips, each potent penetration of his hard arousal, until her world began to slant and spiral.

  Sensations she’d never known existed tore through her, radiated through her soul and set her body on fire. Whimpering, groaning, panting hard, she let go.

  Crying out his name, she came in a rush. As the orgasm ripped through her, her muscles contracted around his thick arousal. He locked his eyes on hers and groaned her name over and over again, his love pouring into her until his entire body grew rigid with his own climax.

  Breathless, she held him to her, and for the first time in her life, she realized she’d found her place in the world.

  And that place was with John.

  Chapter 22

  THE ICU NURSE with a penchant for little girls was unfortunately on vacation at the moment. With the shit he had on him, the man would have made an ideal Grim Reaper. He would have flashed the few pictures he’d had on the nurse, drooling as he’d hiked up his neighbor’s eight-year-old daughter’s skirt, and bingo. Garrett would no longer be a loose string.

  Too bad, he thought as he sat in the far corner of the dimly lit parking lot of Eau Claire Memorial Hospital, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He could have reaped double justice of his own with that sick bastard. The nurse would have killed Garrett to save his reputation, and in turn he’d kill the nurse because he preyed on innocent little girls.

  Who the hell does that?

  The second on his list as Garrett’s personal Grim Reaper had broken both her collar bone and wrist with a supposed fall. Bullshit. He knew all about her, too. She was one of those dominatrix types. Into the kinky side of things with her gal pals, and apparently things had gone further than planned.

  Which left him his third and last choice. Evie Lumbford.

  Twenty-something with a fetish for drugs—he still didn’t understand how she’d ended up employed in a hospital—she’d do anything for a fix. Even if she did refuse to do what he’d demand, he’d make sure a day in his workshop would change her mind.

  His dick throbbed as anticipation built. The nurse who liked little girls would have been gutted, and buried deep in the woods. The other one, well, he would have enjoyed showing the dominatrix who was boss before killing her.

  Evie?

  She was hard on the eyes, her IQ bordered on retardation, and the drugs she took had likely fried what little smarts she had left. But she would serve his purpose. In more ways than one. Once she took care of Garrett, he’d use her as his...rehearsal.

  He pictured Celeste and all of the things he wanted to do to her. She was so much prettier than his Deb. When he would finally have the opportunity to slice Celeste while fucking her at the same time...he wanted to make sure he did it right. He wanted the extreme pleasure. After all, once he shoved his hunting knife into her stomach, there would be no turning back, no second chances for a do over.

  Dead is dead.

  He came alert and sat straighter as Evie exited the door the hospital employees used when taking a smoke break. She lit a cigarette, the flame from the lighter casting a glow over her features. With eyes too far apart, a nose upturned like a pig’s snout, and teeth that hung over her bottom lip, the woman gave a new meaning to the definition of ugly. No matter her face, she’d do.

  He had no other choice at this point. He was out of options a
nd time.

  Thinking about time had him glancing at the clock on the center console of his truck. Half past ten. He had to leave, but he’d be back in the morning after Evie finished her twelve hour shift. She usually worked six to six as one of the hospital’s custodial skeleton crew, and moved under the radar of suspicion. No one would consider dumb, ugly, little Evie Lumbford a threat. With Garrett heavily sedated after his freak show, crybaby shit, he doubted the Eau Claire prison guard that had been placed in front of his hospital door was on full alert. Hopefully Garrett would remain incapacitated.

  He’d heard that Garrett had accused his “brother” of being his partner. No name, though. Still, he’d almost panicked. Almost. But when he’d learned that his doctor doped him up, to the point Garrett didn’t even know his own name, he’d relaxed and devised plan C. Evie Lumbford.

  He knew he was taking a risk, but again, he didn’t have a choice. He most certainly couldn’t waltz into Garrett’s room and kill him. While he would have preferred to have him dead sooner rather than later, the timing hadn’t been right. By the time Garrett had woken from his coma, little, ugly Evie had already started her shift. So now he had to hope that Garrett remained a virtual vegetable until Evie made her rounds tomorrow. He’d have her go to ICU to perform her regular rounds cleaning rooms, and when she entered Garrett’s, she’d finish off the bastard.

  A simple plan.

  And if she were caught or went to the cops? His only disappointment would be that he’d lost a lab rat. He would never allow her to see his face, or his home and workshop. She’d have no knowledge of who he was, but by the time he was finished with her tomorrow afternoon before her shift began, she would know what he was capable of doing.